Comfort from a Stranger
by silvermorgan47
Summary: Dean stops in for a drink at a random bar and meets a fellow tortured soul. Morgan has had it rough and she just really needs a drink. Set after '99 Problems'.


First of all, this is set after '99 Problems' when Dean takes off. Not sure why I had the urge to write this but I did. Second of all, this is a very short piece. Third, there is some language and drinking but it is really not that bad. Kripke has got me in knots. Enjoy!!! I own nothing, no infringement intended.

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**Comfort from a Stranger.**

A moment of comfort was for two people were found over a bottle of whiskey and numerous rum and diet cokes…..

There was something that needed to happen that night and Morgan Culp knew exactly what to do. She walked into the dingy somewhat dirty bar on the out skirts of the town she lived in. She had chosen this location because she was in a dark mood and she needed to be alone with herself. Morgan reflected that her life sucked to put it plainly. She had prayed and hoped that 2010 was going to be a great year but four months in she knew her prayers were not going to be answered. She had felt that the last four months was a wake up call of some kind, it had started with her losing her crappy job that she hated. She would never miss her boring desk job and she wouldn't miss her boss staring down her shirt every chance he got. She would have been ecstatic but that was her main source of income. Her mother, who had taken a turn for the worse hadn't recovered as fast as she thought she was going to. Morgan knew she was about to lose her mother to cervical cancer very soon. Then to pile it on even worse her father had ran off when she was thirteen had resurfaced a couple of weeks ago with a new family including young perky wife, a very smart and handsome son, and two cute little dogs that fit perfectly in the back of his new Lexus. She had smiled and had been cordial but inside she was fighting and dying at the same time. She had been a good sport about it all but tonight was her pity party. She felt the feelings welling up in her and shook her head to chase them away.

It was a lonely bar, only a few patrons were there mostly concerned with the T.V. or the bottom of their beer. The place was exactly what she needed; her only concern was that she hoped the particularly cheery bartender that was scowling at her, would keep the bar open until 2:00 am. She made her way through the cheap round back leather studded chairs to the wooden horseshoe shaped bar and sat at the most secluded part. She did look up at the bartender as he approached her. He really didn't ask a question just kind of stared at her.

"Rum and diet." She mumbled. She didn't watch him make her drink but she heard him take his aggression out on the slamming ice into her glass. She brought her hands up to her temples and began trying to rub the pain and exhaustion away. The bartender set the drink in front of her. She mumbled a thank you and he hurried away. She greedily took a drink of liquor welcoming its burning sensation as it provided instant warmth and her mind went somewhat numb. It was a very good feeling and by the third drink her world was looking much better. She let her mind wander and motioned the bartender for another one. She remained this way thinking about her life when she felt the air change around her. She didn't look around her she just kept her eyes down but she knew the air felt heavier. She didn't have to wonder long about what had changed. The man came in and through her peripheral vision he sat only to bar stools away from her.

"Whiskey." A low voice commanded. She was aware of his presence and she did her best to stay in her own world but she couldn't seem to stop sneaking peaks at the handsome stranger. He was gorgeous, leather jacket, dark blonde hair, and she had caught a glimpse at his nice green eyes. He seemed to be aware of her to; although he kept his eyes straight she had a sensation that he was studying her too. In fact it took two more rum and diets and three more low-ball shots of whiskey for him for them to make a direct eye contact.

Dean Winchester had counted himself lucky for the first time in a long time. He had been driving his impala towards a certain destination when the broken sputtering neon sign had alerted him that there was a bar and he realized that he was thirsty. While the whiskey was sitting low and well for some reason he couldn't stop staring at the woman that was sitting two bar stools down from him. She wasn't strikingly beautiful but it wasn't her looks that had caught his eye and intrigued him. She didn't look skanky like what the women in this certain type of bar should look like. She looked normal and troubled. Her dark eyes showed dark circles of worry that made her look older than what Dean guessed. He hadn't planned on talking to her; in fact he was going for a couple more drinks then finding a motel with a bottle. He watched her finish off the dark liquid and set the glass at the edge of the bar, a signal to the bartender for another.

"Rough night?"

Morgan knew that the stranger was talking to her but she kept her eyes away from his and nodded.

"You have no idea. Try rough year."

"I bet I can top you." Dean said flippantly. Morgan couldn't help it she laughed.

"Maybe you can." She didn't offer him any more conversation. She didn't want to talk to him she just wanted to have her pity party by herself. She was a very nice person but on this particular night she was done with niceties. Niceties were for golden people, golden people with good lives.

"Try me." He asked. Morgan rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"My story… your story…I am here to get drunk and then stumble home."

Dean was slightly taken aback with her response but he respected it. She obviously had some problems but she didn't want to cry about it, she wanted to get drunk. Dean motioned the bartender over and ordered another round.

"Amen to that." He said pushing the glass toward her. She grunted a 'thank you'. Morgan gave in. No matter how fuzzy she was getting she couldn't be rude to a nice stranger that had bought her a drink. She turned to him fully. He was, she thought, a beautiful man indeed.

"Okay. I have had a very bad year with a lot of problems and I can't seem to find the light at the end of the tunnel." She paused before continuing. "Luckily, alcohol is a divine crutch." He surprised her with a loud laugh and his green eyes sparkled. "What's yours?" He took in an exaggerated breath.

"The fate of the world is in my hands and I have run out of any good options to make it better. I just ran away from the one of the very few people I still love on this earth." He expected her to call him crazy and walk away but she just stared at him straight faced staring at him. He shrugged. "I can't seem to do anything right so I am going to make a decision that everyone is going to hate me for." Dean wasn't the talking/sharing type but the whiskey and the dire situation of the apocalypse was taking more than its toll on him. The pain that he usually held back seemed to sear his insides. It was time for him to take the only solution that he could think of… Michael. Saying 'yes' seemed to be his only option. He had already died hundreds of times and even though Michael said he would leave his meat suit intact Dean wasn't counting on it. He smiled a bitter smile and looked at the woman. "What do you think of that?" He asked. She considered his words and tilted her head to the side.

"I think that you are fucked." She said carefully and in all seriousness. She thought he might laugh again but he didn't.

"You…" He breathed. "would be right."

"Problems of the world seem to choke us all." She raised her glass. He touched his glass with hers. Both swallowed deeply. Through the pain and the drinks Morgan found herself enjoying her conversation with the stranger.

"So what is yours?" He asked moving down a chair to be closer with her.

"I am not going to whine to a stranger." She said her tone final.

"Fine. Give me the condensed version." He smiled and Morgan cursed herself for being a sucker for a pretty man with green eyes. She gave him shorter version of what had been going on and when she was done he looked very serious. What she didn't see was pity and that made her somewhat happier.

"It just seems when you get the band-aid ripped off at a young age you can't help to look at the world with a weary eye and I can't seem to wonder what is around the corner that is going to bite me in the ass." She didn't want to keep talking but she couldn't seem to help herself. "Really! If it isn't one thing it is another to knock me on my back." She thought of her father's new family and her mom's cancer. "I just don't feel like getting back up."

Dean felt something tug at his soul from her words, that son-of-a-bitch Horseman was wrong. He was far from dead on the inside. He was just out of hope and options.

"I am sorry for what you are going through." He said and he meant them. Morgan for the first time smiled a genuine smile.

"Thanks." They were both silent for awhile contemplating the sadistic world. "I wish something good would happen." She muttered. She certainly felt due. Dean felt another stab of pain because nothing good was going to happen anytime soon, especially when he was planning to say yes soon.

"Maybe we aren't the types good stuff happens to." Dean's eyes searched her face.

"If that is the case, and I really think it is, then I think that is even more reason to have a little hope."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, when you hit rock bottom then there is only one way to go." Morgan was pissed at the world and she felt like she deserved better in life but she was going to keep a shred of light in her soul and drink a lot until it got better.

Dean took her words in and kept them close they gave him comfort something he hadn't felt in a very long time. He knew the road was going to get a lot darker and it probably wouldn't get any better anytime soon but maybe there was a very slim chance that he could make some things right before the real party started. He wanted to tie up some loose ends and say some things that needed to be said. Maybe then he would feel better.

"Ohhh God. I am going to have the worst hangover tomorrow." Morgan said. Dean looked at the tired and pained woman. He could do nothing to help her but he wanted to see her smile one more time.

"Well I heard a rumor that they have alcohol in heaven." Dean said getting up and throwing a wad of cash on the bar top. Morgan looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

"That is something, I guess." Dean laughed and took a couple of steps closer to her.

"I haven't told you the best part." He said leaning on the bar his long arm out stretched out.

"What is that?" She asked her eyes narrowed.

"No hangover." He whispered in her ear. This time Morgan threw her head back and laughed. Morgan finally stopped and hiccupped once before she had a straight face again. She knew that Dean was leaving and felt a small sting of disappointment but she realized that she felt a lot better than she had in a long time. She stuck her hand out.

"Morgan Culp." Dean grasped her hand.

"Dean Winchester." They shook hands and traded a look. With that he was leaving and she watched as Dean walked out of the bar into the cool spring night. She hoped that he found the peace that he was looking for soon because it was hard to be a burdened person. She turned back to her rum and diet. Morgan was surprised that she had gotten comfort from a man that looked more troubled than she was. Oh well, she thought.

"Bartender! Call me a cab would ya?"


End file.
